


9,498th night

by acastle



Series: see you in this light [2]
Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Disbandment, mentions events of December 2019-January 2020, mentions of other members - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28408080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: His birthday last year wasn’t anything like this.(Seungwoo, Seungsik, on the 24th of December, 2020.)
Relationships: Han Seungwoo/Kang Seungsik
Series: see you in this light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080602
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	9,498th night

**Author's Note:**

> this is an immediate follow-up (but may also be read as a stand-alone work) to the previous work in this series. this was not planned, but seungwoo's birthday happened, and thus, naturally, this came about. 
> 
> thank you for your endless kindness. I look forward to writing more for this pairing. they have been a great joy in my life.
> 
> please, do not send to anyone mentioned here.

His birthday last year wasn’t anything like this.

Not to say that he didn’t enjoy it. He was making the best of a difficult situation with his new family, who made him feel at home and celebrated him with plenty of love, not quite forgetting what was happening around them, forced into semi-seclusion and not knowing when (even _if)_ they could work again, but knowing that despite it all, there was still a lot to be thankful for, if just having met each other and having a wonderful time together. 

Somehow, he had even made time to meet with his first family. It had to be discrete, there was no other way around it, but. The feeling he had had when they had brought out a cake for him, laughing and smiling brightly despite their clear exhaustion from full-day rehearsals and practice for a concert he yearned to be a part of, it was incomparable to anything he had felt before. Joy, tinged with deep sadness and hope for a better tomorrow.

He remembers, then, the way Seungsik had sat with him. His hair of fading pink under a hat, eyes quiet but saying everything, asking the hard questions wordlessly, _‘How are you?,’ ‘How are you holding up?,’ ‘Are you okay?,’ ‘Is there anything I could do for you?’_

Seungwoo didn’t know how to answer the questions then. Just smiled, had known that none of it really reached his eyes. Seungsik looked at him, and understood. Pulled him into his arms and sat with him, loving him quietly, hoping it could tide him over until the answers made themselves clear. 

A year ago. All of that a year ago. 

Many things are different, now. 

Now, he has a full week of schedules, one thing after another, even on the day of his birthday, work piled up high and he finds himself thriving, even looking for more, sleep and rest a distant, secondary afterthought.

There are messages that stream from _everyone,_ coming into his phone. From the ten others, who had waited until the clock had read all zeros to send him love and well-wishes, and it’s bittersweet, but in all their words, there is just gratitude, and a calm acceptance that Seungwoo did not know they would have, together. 

There’s a cake in front of him, again, but it’s in front of cameras and the kids are laughing and eating around him, reading comments from fans and singing to him, the broadcast really just an excuse to celebrate a little early and eat well, while they can. Things are uncertain for another reason, something they can’t quite control, but he’s no longer hiding. They’re all tired, together, picking up from where they had to pause their preparations for what might be the biggest thing they do together, at least, so far, but they’re also happy together, _together._

A miracle. 

And, a year ago, he didn’t recognize the love that Seungsik had hoped would seep into him as he held him, comforted him, had been the same kind of love he had been harboring himself, for that same someone who risked _everything_ so Seungwoo could breathe. 

But he recognizes it now, and when Seungsik looks up at him, his hair of bright platinum like a halo as his eyes crinkle when their gazes meet, it calms his soul, just knowing that he can have this. _He can have this,_ he can come home and burrow himself into Seungsik’s arms and always find love and it’s given to him freely, generously, much more than he deserves, and he’s thankful. Despite it all, he’s thankful.

.

He wonders how Dohyun can somehow keep track of the things that are dropping today.

He sits behind the passenger seat, blinking as he tries to wake himself a little more up as they drive towards the salon to get ready for the day. 

He’s 27, officially.

It feels strange, but he feels like he doesn’t really have much time to really take it in, today. Dohyun drives on, reminding him of the things being released, _“The magazine shoot you did last month should be releasing the pictures in a while, might already be out, actually, the interview for it was really good. M Countdown will be airing before your livestream event, we should prepare the pictures for the SNS accounts. Ah, and did you receive the package your cosmetics deal sent? And tonight-”_

He hums when appropriate, answering and hoping he doesn’t sound unenthusiastic. He’s _grateful_ to be busy, even today, but when the morning had begun with Seungsik’s fingertips pressing gently against the highest part of his cheek, stroking gently until he had woken up enough just to have Seungsik’s beautiful smile pressed against his lips in a quiet, wonderful greeting, Seungwoo finds that he would rather still be in bed.

A year ago, this petulant regret of having to leave Seungsik, criminally pretty in the morning light and wearing just the top counterpart to Seungwoo’s pajama bottoms, did not exist. Seungwoo did not know that he could ever feel like this, like his love could be returned, like he could breathe and not be afraid of any stacks of cards he would topple over with the slightest wrong wind, even if just with _him._

He thinks of the night before, the seven of them bringing the celebration back to the dorm living room after he had returned from cleaning his studio, eating cake and whatever snacks they had managed to buy from the convenience store, all so, _so happy,_ such that he laughs, he smiles, commits everything to memory.

He thinks of the unconventionally perfect hour that had followed after the others had retired to bed, wherein he and Seungsik were left with the remnants of their small celebration, empty packs of chips and other miscellaneous snacks (with Sejun, he can’t quite tell anymore), and bottles of juice, beer, and soju, and they had cleaned up after everyone, long-suffering, but finding the task comforting all the same. Some things don’t change, but little aspects of it do: when his hands linger on Seungsik’s waist as he sweeps the crumbs off the floor, when Seungsik hums next to him as they wash and dry the glasses over their small sink in the kitchen, stealing glances at each other and blushing as they smile, their affection still feeling so _new,_ wonderful and tender. When Seungwoo gives in for a moment and reels Seungsik in, his hands still soapy and sudsy as he kisses him, laughing against his mouth as Seungsik squeaks against his lips, before he melts into it, only pushing away when he exclaims that Seungwoo is wasting too much water, his ears bright red and Seungwoo grins to himself, feeling particularly cheerful.

He thinks of how despite their truly _darling_ flirting (he hears the unimpressed tone Subin or Hanse would adopt, the _‘You mean_ insufferable, _hyung,’_ ringing through his head, fully judgemental and _wrong),_ they don’t have much in them to do anything other than split one of Seungwoo’s pajama sets between them, climbing into bed together and slipping into slumber almost as soon as they close their eyes. 

So, the little regret fills him, and he frowns to himself as he thinks of their morning again, Seungsik’s smile tender and just for him as he greeted him, chuckling as Seungwoo had teased him for a birthday post he hadn’t even posted yet, replying with a cheeky expression, _“Just wait, I’m looking for good pictures.”_

He hadn’t wanted to leave their private cocoon, work be damned, but Seungsik had dragged him out of bed, looking too innocent (really, genuinely excited in a naive way) as he told him that they could celebrate tonight, instead.

Seungwoo knows he’s excited for secret surprise seaweed soup reasons, even though it really isn’t a secret nor a surprise, and Seungwoo wouldn’t put it past him to not realize how his words, on someone more nefarious, who is quite literally _any other person_ aside from Seungsik, would be assumed as something sexual.

But Seungsik looks so pleased with himself, Seungwoo doesn’t have the heart to do anything other than nod. He finds that now, Seungsik’s enthusiasm is infectious, as he’s looking forward to the little solace of soup to close out his day.

“-Ah, and, happy birthday, hyung,” Dohyun says, looking back to smile at him when they reach a stoplight. 

Seungwoo smiles at him, “Thanks. I’m sorry you had to take time out of your holidays for this.”

Dohyun waves him off, handing him a paper bag from the coffee place Seungwoo frequents. “I got you a simple gift, I hope it’s alright.”

“Oh, thank you,” Seungwoo says, smiling as he takes out a fresh icy Americano, a cookie, and a gift card that he knows will be useful in the coming weeks. “I’ll use it well.”

Dohyun smiles, and as he drives, asks him, “Do you and Seungsik have plans for tonight?”

Seungwoo can’t quite stop the pull of the smile that makes the corners of his lips go up, and he says, “Just some soup.”

Dohyun eyes him, and says under his breath, but just audible enough to let Seungwoo know it’s on purpose, _“‘Just soup,’_ he says, like I haven’t been restocking their _supplies_ for months.”

He just laughs. He doesn’t blame Dohyun, or anyone, really, for thinking he’s strange for being excited about soup, but.

Soup had not been a possibility a year ago. 

.

Seungsik’s post for him is up just as he leaves the salon, and it’s simple, but heartfelt all the same. A few stolen shots of Seungwoo, and two of them from the other day when they had been filming, tired from the day’s work, but all Seungwoo could remember from the day was how Seungsik had looked _ethereal,_ beaming as he had pulled Seungwoo in to take pictures together. He always takes pictures, every schedule, documents everything even if it seems like it’s just another day.

Like everything is worth remembering, for him. Seungwoo smiles, endeared, in love. 

“I told him not to post pictures with those outfits,” Dohyun says, sighing, resigned as they shuttle off to the venue for the livestream.

Seungwoo grins at him, teasing, “We looked good, though.”

“Yes, you’re _in love,_ I get it, I will let it slide this time,” he says, long-suffering, and Seungwoo laughs, bright, loud, feeling so, so _happy._

They monitor the ‘Miracles in December’ stage as the stylists put him in the outfit for the day, and Seungwoo really can’t help the smile that breaks out whenever Seungsik sends him real-time reactions as it airs.

_‘hyojin is your age??? why do I look older than him….’_

_‘wahhh, you’re so cute hyung, you’re so shy, the editing team likes you so much too, they made your cheeks so pink.’_

_‘you’re singing so well. it sounds effortless, hyung. I’m so proud of you.’_

_‘I miss singing this with you.’_

“Look at the smile on your face,” his makeup noona teases him as she refreshes the blush on his cheeks, poking at the dimples he can’t help but let out when Seungsik sends a selfie, with one of those sticker filters placing tiny cute rainbows and emojis on his face, but Seungwoo is only drawn to his smile. It occurs to him that he’s making himself an easy target for merciless teasing, but he can’t care. “Ahhh, to be somewhat young and in love-”

_“‘Somewhat’_ young? It’s my birthday and you wound me like this,” he says, pouting at her, and she just gives him a _look,_ not even stuttering as she powders his nose voraciously with the biggest, fluffiest brush he’s ever seen.

“You’ll be fine, you have a boyfriend that will love your future wrinkles anyway,” she says. The words, simple as they are, make him _blush,_ and he’s unable to quell how _happy_ they make him.

Future. The future with Seungsik.

Feels like another miracle he wouldn’t have dared for, a year ago.

Then, Seungsik’s reactions to the Esquire shoot come one after the other, including some very wide-eyed selfies with the pinkest cheeks, and Dohyun says, “Hyung, don’t make me take away your phone, stop looking at him like you’ll eat him, _please-”_

.

Seungsik posts again on the group Twitter account before the livestream starts, more photos from the camping live the day before. It makes Seungwoo smile, not quite enough to flush out the hints of weariness he’s feeling, but certainly enough to energize him as he greets the host with a smile, and the atmosphere is comfortable, light as they talk about his skincare routine, the products, his admittedly _very pretty_ hands.

So, when the MC asks him, “I’m also curious about the Victon members’ skincare, too,” he smiles, trying not to look too dopey about it as he says, “Ah, there’s a member who’s practically a pro. It’s Seungsik.”

“Ahhh, yes,” she says, “Seungsik’s skin is so good. He’s like a puppy, isn’t he?”

Seungwoo can barely refrain from preening, “Yeah, he has a puppy look!”

On the drive going to the company to check out the cakes and gifts the fans have sent, and for his birthday live broadcast later on, he discovers that Seungsik had posted a _third_ time. 

Seungwoo blinks, feels his cheeks pink up considerably when he sees _those_ pictures, from the time he had been shooting for his solo album jacket and Seungsik had dropped by and kept him company, gave him support. He had been proud of those shots, too, had exerted so much effort into looking _like that,_ but if he were being honest with himself, all he can remember from that particular moment in time is seeing Seungsik’s face, mostly hidden by his mask, but Seungwoo knows him well enough to know the roundness of his eyes, the pink flush on his neck, betrayed his flustered expression. Rather than remembering how tough it had been, pumping his body up to prepare himself for the layout, he remembers taking Seungsik’s hand, running off before anyone could see where they were going, and reeling him into a kiss so steaming, so _silky_ and wet, that it had quickly led to another, then another, until they all bled into each other and he and Seungsik were melting into each other.

He remembers then, how completely not composed Seungsik had been when they came back to the set, red beneath the mask his trembling hands struggled to wear, and how he had shown the pictures he had taken on his phone to Seungwoo later on, telling him, _“These are just for me.”_

_“What are you going to use them for?”_ Seungwoo had asked him then, and Seungsik couldn’t meet his eyes, his ears practically the same shade of red the staff had used for the background, all particularly pleasing for Seungwoo.

The memory makes him clear his throat, trying to not be so obviously flustered in Dohyun’s presence, but with every ^____^ Seungsik had included in his caption, he loses about half his mind. And he’d put in _three,_ maximum Seungwoo devastation just about confirmed.

He gets more than twenty cakes this year, and seeing them all laid out on top of the table, aside from the _mountain_ of gifts of perfumes and gadgets and designer clothes and shoes, makes him feel _exceptionally_ loved, nothing short of fortunate. 

But, somehow, even with _all of that,_ just before he goes live for his birthday broadcast, when he receives a message, just a picture of a pink pot sitting on top of the burner in their kitchen, nothing else seems to compare to the _glow_ that radiates from his chest, making him feel like he’d been lit up from the inside.

He loves him. _Loves him,_ loves Seungsik _so much._

He’s busy, has a lot on his plate, always filled with a hunger to prove himself, but he’s _calm._ Finally feels like he can kick away the blankets weighing him down and _breathe,_ and he knows that Seungsik had no small part in giving him that freedom to feel like this.

Seungsik deserves more than anything he could give him, but Seungwoo will work to prove himself worthy of his kindness and love and sacrifice.

The set-up for the live is pretty, shiny, and blingy. It’s not difficult to settle into the mood, fun and bright, and though he’s tired from the full day he’s had, he’s happy, really _happy._

“Subin greeted me first today,” he says, and he imitates the voice message he had gotten from him in a hushed, low tone, mentally bracing himself for any glares Subin might give him when he gets home. “I couldn’t answer Sejun’s call, though, I was cleaning…”

He goes on a little tangent, and it feels a little strange to be doing all of this to an empty room, alone. Knows it’s not much different from the times he’d done it in the studio, but he flounders a little internally, feeling a little awkward. 

He looks down to read the comments as he trails off, and sees a flood of comments, _‘What about Seungsik?,’ ‘did sikie get you anything?,’ ‘is seungsik’s soup yummy?,’ ‘SEUNGSIKIE ^___^,’_ and his chest warms gently, even just the mention of his name comforting him.

“Hmm, Seungsikie,” he says, looking up to the camera and smiling quietly. “After this broadcast ends, when I get back to the dorm, I think I’ll eat the seaweed soup Seungsik made for me,” he scrolls through the messages on his phone, and as the photo comes up, he turns it to the camera to show off to everyone how _loved_ he is.

“He sent me this,” he says, and as he goes back to the comments, a thought comes to mind, and he can’t help but smile at Seungsik’s genuine, pure domesticity. “It’s almost. It’s as if he’s a wife, waiting at home with seaweed soup,” he chuckles, fighting to tamp down his blush. “I’m very thankful to Seungsikie.” 

He smiles, and the comments explode. _As they should._

A little later on, after doing things like teasing their manager even from another room, and eating the cake, which, as delightfully sweet as it is, it makes him crave the savory warmth of what’s promised for him at home even more, he tries to make a call after doing everything else on the agenda.

Subin doesn’t answer, because of course he doesn’t, and _of course_ the next name that comes up is _Seungsik’s,_ and it’s really sinking in as he brings up his number and pressing call that he’d really likened him to his _wife,_ live, in front of thousands of people, and he _knows_ that Seungsik had been watching, too.

“Hello, Sik? What are you doing?” he says as soon as his call is picked up, and Seungsik, being the truly _wonderful_ boyfriend he is, says, _“I’m watching - like a wife.”_

Seungwoo fights the instinct to smile, listens as Seungsik tells him, _“Subin’s asleep.”_

“Ah, so that’s why he didn’t answer? He was sleeping,” he says, telling everyone watching as he switches to speaker, and Seungsik’s voice is so _warm,_ low and comforting in his ear, and he wants to end the live so he can go home and cuddle him, even when he’s talking about how there’s no rice to go with the soup. He laughs, “Rice isn’t important, it’s fine. You finished your goal for the year, that’s what’s important.”

_“You haven’t eaten it yet, though, so,”_ Seungsik says, trailing off a little.

“Oh, so if I don’t eat it, you’ll fail, then?” Seungwoo teases him, to which his reply is, _“Yes. So don’t you dare not eat it.”_

Seungwoo laughs, feels his whole face light up with it, and Seungsik laughs with him, and it’s almost as if he were there, with him. Almost, _almost._ It makes the urge to go home even stronger.

“Do you have anything you want to say?” he asks him, and Seungsik is too genuinely kind, saying, _“Everyone, please greet hyung a happy birthday.”_

“Aww,” he says, and he can almost hear the way Seungsik coos on the other end of the line. 

The rest of the broadcast seems to fly by after that. Teasing Subin for his not-yet-occuring snoring, teasing Sejun for not buying him meat, hanging up on him, only to call him back and tease him again, telling him to buy him rice for the soup, and then he’s done for the night after taking a few pics with the cakes he’d received. 

It’s late, but he’s practically bouncing his way back to the dorm, the hour much earlier than what is normal for him, but with what’s waiting for him back home, he can’t get there soon enough.

However, when he gets there, and sees Seungsik on the sofa, looking up from where he had been scrolling on his phone, his smile overtaking his whole face when he sees Seungwoo, it had been more than worth it.

It’s automatic, the way he ambles over to him and crawls into his arms, burrowing down until his head is in Seungsik’s lap. He swears he _purrs,_ burying his face into Seungsik’s belly as his hands gently card through Seungwoo’s hair.

He didn’t have it like this, the year before. It’s not as if they didn’t see each other, but they did not know, then, what they could be. That they would be here, a present in which Seungsik brings his head down to kiss his cheek, pulling on his ear gently.

_“Baby,”_ he hums, and Seungsik sighs, accepting it all the same. “Hmmm, you’re warm.”

“Hmm, are you cold?” 

“Not anymore,” Seungwoo replies, shuffling over to wrap his arms around Seungsik’s waist. It’s comfortable, quiet, and Seungsik’s hands in his hair are almost enough to lull him to sleep. 27 feels nice, if it’s like this.

It’s quiet for a long while, and he’s about to fall asleep, really, when Seungsik asks him in a low tone, the words going straight into his belly and warming him from the inside, “Hmmm. So, _wife,_ was it?”

Seungwoo feels the blood rushing to his face, and he burrows further into Seungsik’s shirt, hiding the stupid grin he knows he has on his face, “It feels like it, though?”

He looks up just in time to see Seungsik’s face go pink, before he says in a higher tone than before, betraying his flustered expression, “What, you’d marry me?”

Seungwoo doesn’t even pause. “I would.”

Seungsik’s mouth drops, and Seungwoo watches the way his face flushes into deep red, his eyes wide as he looks down at him. 

And for Seungwoo, he’s just not saying it to tease him. He _would,_ in the near or far future, whenever Seungsik is ready. It’s a _big thought,_ one that takes time to ponder over properly and think about thoroughly, but to him, the answer is simple.

It’s the same, a year ago, a year from now, _whenever._

But he knows that it can be _a lot,_ especially for someone like Seungsik, who thinks about things carefully and weighs the outcomes, thinking about everyone involved and how it can affect them. It’s not that he thinks his answer would be a _‘No,’_ but rather, _‘Not now.’_

“Was that too much?” he asks, reaching up to pat his cheek gently. “I’m sorry, I must have shocked you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Seungsik says, and he’s still blushing, but he doesn’t look away. “It’s just, it’s. It’s really, _too soon.”_

Seungwoo smiles tenderly for him, cupping his face, “This is obvious, what I’m going to say, but. You don’t have to marry me, if you don’t want to-”

“No! No, I want to, it’s just-”

Seungsik stops, and he goes _bright red,_ and Seungwoo can almost feel the heat coming from his face where his hand is pressed, and Seungsik is scrambling then, making him sit up as he gets off the sofa and scurries away to the kitchen, tripping over his words as he tries to save face, “Nevermind, it’s nothing. I mean, _not_ nothing, just, I mean. _I mean,_ oh _god,_ let me heat up your food-”

Seungwoo smiles after him, his soul bright and warm and _happy,_ and he stands up, follows him to the stove, where Seungsik is bringing the soup to a boil, adding some water as he goes. He wraps his arms around his waist, embracing him from behind and tucking his face into Seungsik’s neck, feeling him tense slightly in front of him, but he eventually relaxes, sighing against Seungwoo’s chest. 

“So, you’ll marry me?” he asks, his words casual, but truthfully, everything inside him is _racing,_ pounding. He’s relaxed, but at the same time, he’s so _not._

Seungsik is quiet for a while, and Seungwoo watches as his neck turns pinker. He answers, “You already gave me a ring, so…”

Seungwoo smiles, so stupidly _in love,_ and he leans in, kissing his cheek and letting his lips linger. They’re in no rush, and with what they are, with the jobs they have and their lives so public, it’s hard to tell what their future will be. Hardly anything is ever guaranteed.

But in this, in what he feels, Seungwoo had known for long enough what he wants. He’s sure, and he’ll work hard to keep it, and maybe one day, the beaded rings will turn into something a little more permanent. One day.

But for now, he noses down the side of Seungsik’s neck, breathing in the moment as he says, “Thank you for the soup, baby.”

Seungsik leans his head against his, saying quietly, “This is nothing, hyung.”

He’s silent afterwards as he stirs the soup, watching as it slowly begins to simmer, and Seungwoo watches him. It’s easy to feel his tension, and when Seungwoo leans against his back slightly, Seungsik goes stiff, clearly trying to seem nonchalant, but obviously preoccupied to some degree.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he tells him.

Seungsik is quiet for a moment longer, thinking through his words, before he settles with, “I didn’t have time to get you a real gift. What I got you feels... _lacking,_ somewhat.”

“The soup is more than enough for me, baby.”

“No, I mean-”

There’s a very audible slam of the refrigerator door, making them both jump, Seungwoo pulling Seungsik in even closer to him instinctively. But, as it turns out, it’s just Sejun getting an ice cream, eyeing the both of them, simultaneously unimpressed and _over it._

“Right in the kitchen that we cook in,” he says, still glaring at them and their proximity. He stalks off, staring at them as he makes his way back to the room, saying rather loudly right before he shuts the door, “I’m locking you out!”

He and Seungsik stand in the kitchen, blinking together as another slam echoes, and then silence again. 

“Oh,” Seungsik says a little lamely. “I've been exiled.” 

He looks genuinely put out by being reverse sexiled, too, _adorable._ Seungwoo could eat him up. 

“He did me a favor,” Seungwoo says, grins against the skin of Seungsik’s neck, and Seungsik groans.

“Hyung, we have practice tomorrow,” he says, and Seungwoo chuckles. Truly, Seungsik is better than _anyone_ he knows. Responsible, kind, beautiful, too good for him.

“Alright, alright,” Seungwoo relents, smiling as he kisses Seungsik’s cheek one more time as he turns off the stove, the soup sufficiently warmed through. 

They heat up the rice Dohyun had gotten for them in the microwave as the soup cools down a bit to a palatable temperature, and Seungsik sits across from him on the table, putting his feet up on the chair and hugging his knees, watching as he takes his first bite of the soup. 

“How is it?” he asks, looking on attentively, waiting nervously for his response.

It’s hot, savory on his tongue and pleasant as it goes down his throat, and it fills him with warmth, and Seungwoo smiles instantly. “It’s really good. I love it.”

Seungsik breathes out in relief, “Ah. I thought it might have been too salty, earlier. I’m glad I added some water.”

“Thank you, Sikie,” he says, taking another spoonful, trying to get as much of the seaweed in with his bite. “I’ll eat it well.”

“Please do, I know you didn’t eat much during the day,” he says, his voice soft, and Seungwoo could really not have been any luckier. It’s a seemingly simple thing, making sure he eats, but Seungsik doesn’t take the reminders he gives him for granted, always wanting him to be healthy.

They’re silent as he eats, and it’s a comforting quiet that blankets over them. Seungsik watches, getting him water and throwing away the plastic peel lid of the rice for him, and somehow, for Seungwoo, it’s all just _comfort._ Small things that he would have taken for granted, if it were another year, but now. Giving him precious memories, as simple as they are. 

It’s as the last remaining dregs of seaweed and broth sit on the bottom of the pot when Seungsik asks him, “So, how does it feel? Being 27, _old.”_

_“Old?”_ Seungwoo laughs, “You’re only four months younger than me, who are you calling me _‘old?’”_

“Our zodiac animals are completely different! That’s practically different generations,” Seungsik says, his smile stretching widely before he collapses into a fit of giggles, a fit of giggles Seungwoo wants to attack with _all_ the kisses. “You’re _older_ than me!”

“What is it with everyone saying I’m old now,” he says, jutting bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “The staff said the same thing.”

“What did they say?” he asks him, shuffling closer and craning his head forward over their small table to look at him more earnestly. Seungwoo struggles not to be so endeared. 

“They called me ‘somewhat young,’” he says, to which Seungsik laughs.

“Well, neither of us are very young, now,” he says, laughing even louder, and he’s right. Seungwoo laughs with him, anyway, because how can he _not._ Not when Seungsik is like the sun, too bright and like a breath of life in him, making him feel younger than he really is.

“She said that at least you’d like my future wrinkles,” Seungwoo tells him.

Seungsik smiles, _smiles,_ the way when his eyes go soft and turn into endearing crescents, his cheeks with the slightest blush, and his lips curl into something so _tender_ that it makes Seungwoo want to press his own lips against. “I would. Even though I’ll get wrinkles before you do.”

“Because we stress you out?” he teases, making him laugh again, blessed sound.

“Because you have _perfect_ skin, please,” he retorts, and Seungwoo laughs, laughs even though it’s not a joke, just _laughs._ Because he did not think he could be laughing like this, this soon, talking about something as _ridiculous_ as the merits of his milky skin, a year ago. 

Seungsik was not in his life, _this way,_ a year ago. He’s truly beyond fortunate.

He finishes his soup, eats the last few spoonfuls of rice, and Seungsik stays with him, curled up in the chair as he keeps him company. He looks up, and Seungsik is clearly tired, blinking slowly but looking at him attentively, and he’s _truly_ too good a person to be with him. 

Carrying all this _burden,_ all this _weight_ that Seungwoo had inadvertently made him inherit _,_ enduring even though it has a way of beating a person down, and doing _beautifully,_ despite it all. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seungsik asks him, and Seungwoo blinks, realizing how he’d trailed off mentally.

He answers easily, “Because I love you.”

Seungsik doesn’t say anything, but he turns the _deepest_ of reds, and he tries to hide his face in his hands, cringing, embarrassed and pleased altogether. 

Seungwoo chuckles, finding he enjoys teasing him _too much,_ and he rides on the wave, goes on to ask him, “So. The pictures you posted earlier,” to which Seungsik _groans,_ burying his face in his arms, trying to make himself more invisible though it doesn’t quite work, “I thought you said they were just for you?”

Seungsik groans even louder, and Seungwoo can’t stop _laughing,_ losing himself in it, feeling _so much_ and yet, never having felt so _light._

“I can’t be selfish and just keep it to myself, you’re too pretty for that,” Seungsik says, but he still won’t come out of his cocoon, not willing to look at him just yet.

“Hmm, and anyway, only _you_ get the real thing, too,” Seungwoo says, smug as hell, and Seungsik practically wails, much to his delight.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“Do you not like the real thing?” Seungwoo cocks an eyebrow at him.

Seungsik looks up just to _glare,_ and he says, “Of course I do! _Gosh,_ you’re setting me up.”

Seungwoo just about cackles, and Seungsik pouts, hiding back in the safe haven of his arms. And as fun as it is, teasing Seungsik, because he has the patience of an angel and is too kind to really take any of it to heart, Seungwoo wouldn’t ever want to take it too far, so he says with a soft smile as he calms down, “I’m sorry. I promise it’s not on purpose, Sikie.”

“You don’t mean that,” he says, huffing a little, and Seungwoo just smiles, his eyes scrunching up as he looks at him, impossibly endeared. 

He’d been thinking about it a lot, these past few months. Of how hard things have been, for either of them, trying to find their way in a new dynamic and watching as the dust settled, doing their best not to disturb the air as they found themselves as seven again. For him, giving things up, entrusting it to someone else who didn’t deserve the burden, but took it on anyway, just so he could find some peace.

They’re aware of what people had been saying. They know that people are expecting him to take it up again, along the line, when he’s _‘ready,’_ though he knows in himself that he can’t, not anymore. They know, they _know,_ what people had been saying about Seungsik. They know. 

Yet, Seungsik. 

He still smiles, bright, his soul as gentle as it was before taking up the mantle, and he’d accepted everything. Every barbed word, every tantrum, every spew of hate that came from people neither of them knew. And despite it all, after all that, he still lets himself be teased, by the six of them, knowing it comes from a place of the _deepest_ love, accepting it all.

Especially when it comes to Seungwoo. 

“Thank you,” he says, quiet, happy. 

Seungsik looks at him. He’s quiet for a moment, before he says, “Anything for you, hyung.”

And he proves it, all the time.

They just look at each other, and somehow, it’s warm, wonderful, more than enough. It’s cliche, to be so in love with someone that just looking at them is enough, but Seungwoo doesn’t take the cliches for granted.

They’re all small miracles, to him, after so much struggle and wait. 

A moment more of silence between them, Seungsik watching him carefully, and then, he’s standing up, ambling over to him, and Seungwoo blinks up at him as Seungsik seats himself on his lap, but he stops thinking the moment he places his lips over his.

It hasn’t lost any luster, kissing him. Still feels like he’s being lit up, like the gentlest fire is started within him, getting warmer and warmer and brighter with each silky slide of Seungsik’s lips against his, further ignited when Seungsik licks into his mouth, licking against his teeth and tongue and all he can taste is _him,_ now. The sweetest thing. 

Seungsik moves slightly, straddling him properly and kissing him more heatedly, and Seungwoo breathes in sharply, moving his hands down to palm Seungsik’s bottom, squeezing gently as Seungsik whimpers into his mouth, his nails digging in gently into his hair, kissing him deeper, longer.

It doesn’t take much for Seungwoo to get overwhelmed when it comes to Seungsik. It always leaves him wanting _more,_ as much as he can be given, and Seungsik always _gives,_ so _hot_ and sensual but always, _always_ tender, gentle. Taking care of him, no matter how they go about things.

Seungsik rolls down on top of him, and Seungwoo groans, squeezing his ass tighter in his hands. He fights not to buck his hips up in response, letting him know what he wants, how hard he’s getting, says, “What, _ah,_ what happened to ‘we have practice tomorrow?’”

Seungsik pauses then, much to his disappointment. He pulls back, looking at him, blinking, “Do you...not want to?”

And because Seungwoo loves him, loves him _so much,_ he puts on a pensive expression, feigning thinking it over, humming just to drive it home, “Hmmm, well-”

_“God,_ I’m going to bed,” Seungsik says, pouting, _adorable,_ making to get up off of him, “I’m going to lock you out, too, see how it feels to be exiled-”

And Seungwoo is laughing, laughing _brightly_ and loudly as he pulls him back to his lap, “Sorry, I’m sorry Sikie.”

“Why are you like this?!”

“So you want the real thing, now?” he says, can’t resist, and Seungsik _whines,_ embarrassed and tired cringing, and somehow, that just makes Seungwoo’s belly get even hotter. It spurs him to stand up, lifting him up as he goes, and Seungsik just short of _screams,_ squealing, _“I can walk, hyung, put me down!”_ as he’s lifted off the ground as Seungwoo makes the trek to his room, closing and locking the door firmly behind him and bringing them over to the bed, climbing on top of him and molding his lips onto his as soon as Seungsik’s head hits the pillow.

“You’re so mean, hyung,” Seungsik whines, only to _moan_ as Seungwoo slides his hands under his loose shirt, his cold hands pressing flat against his warming body. He opens his mouth for him easily, letting Seungwoo’s tongue roam inside and he balls up Seungwoo’s shirt in his hands, lifting up, up, until Seungwoo pulls away to strip himself of it, the cold air making goosebumps erupt all over his bare torso, but not as as when Seungsik curls his arms around him, pulling him down to hold him close to him.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, smiling against Seungsik’s pout, kissing him again, and again, making quick work of removing Seungsik’s shirt, and his pants and underwear all in one go, and it’s always a _sight,_ having Seungsik so open, _vulnerable_ with him, trusting him fully. 

“You _better,”_ Seungsik says against his lips, making Seungwoo _burn_ in the best way, hands moving down to pull down Seungwoo’s own pants, and Seungwoo kicks it the rest of the way off, and they moan collectively as their bodies meet, nothing between them as they rock together on the bed.

Seungwoo kisses him, trailing his lips down Seungsik’s jaw, his throat, over his collarbone, his chest, his belly, his hip, _everywhere,_ his mouth mapping every inch of Seungsik’s _gorgeous_ body, and the way he moans above him, his hands threading through his hair, _pulling_ when Seungwoo licks down his length, all of it just makes Seungwoo even harder, the urge to grinds against the mattress strong, but he stops himself, willing himself not to even touch his own cock, hard and aching to drive into Seungsik. 

“You’re still being mean, _ah, fuck,”_ he whines, gasping as Seungwoo licks over where he’s hottest, and Seungwoo licks in deeper, prodding his tongue and dipping in slightly into his hole. “S-Seungwoo, _ah.”_

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, bringing his body back up to look at him, waiting for his reply. “This way, it’s good for you?”

_“Yes,_ yes, please,” Seungsik gives him his consent, cupping his face and pulling him down to kiss him hard, and he wraps his legs around Seungwoo’s waist, letting him grind down, their cocks sliding together, making them moan into each other’s mouths, and Seungwoo swallows all the gasps Seungsik feeds into him, feels him get hotter, and it’s like he’s being lit from within, his insides _burning_ with the need to give Seungsik his _everything,_ let Seungsik overwhelm him and take all he has to give. 

It always feels like a miracle, the way they fit together. The way that even from the first time, they just _knew,_ Seungwoo had known _just_ how to touch him, how to kiss him. How to give him everything and how to sink into him, make him feel good. It was always a given, that Seungsik would know how to bring him to the edge, how to love him and take and give and make him feel _bright,_ but the way he’s trusted Seungwoo. The way he lets Seungwoo in and make a home in him, trusting him to make him feel good, it’s always so _new,_ nothing Seungwoo ever takes for granted. 

Even the way Seungsik parts his legs for him, letting Seungwoo push in his slicked up fingers into him, preparing him to take in his cock, is done with too much trust, open on his face along with his pleasure as he moans. Seungsik takes him _beautifully,_ gasping as Seungwoo slowly pumps his fingers, adding another one when he’s sure Seungsik is ready for it. It’s another wonder, how they haven’t been doing this for very long, they’ve only been together for a few months, but he just _knows_ when to add more, by the way Seungsik’s breath hitches _just slightly,_ gasping and teetering into whimpers. 

Seungwoo pushes three fingers into his ass, pouring more lube as he goes on, watching Seungsik as he moans beneath him, his hands trembling where they clutch at Seungwoo’s shoulders, nails digging into skin each time Seungwoo’s fingers stretch him open a little bit more. 

“Baby, _baby,”_ Seungwoo hums, leaning down to kiss him, though truly, it’s more of his lips hovering above Seungsik’s, feeling his gasps and whimpers brush against his mouth as he opens his ass up. Seungwoo swallows heavily, unable to turn away as he watches him, Seungsik’s body quivering underneath him, his cock lying flat length on his belly and he looks down, staring at where his fingers sink into his hole, and the fire within him burns brighter, hotter, already feeling overwhelmed. 

“Hyung, _fuck,”_ Seungsik pulls Seungwoo down, kissing him hard.

“Sik,” he moans, unable to say much more, feeling like he’s already too close to the edge, just _watching him._ “I, _fuck,_ this. This might be easier if you turn over-”

“No!” he says, a little louder than he seems to intend, his eyes going wide and cheeks turning pink. Seungwoo looks at him, blinking, surprised.

“Do, do you change your mind?” he asks him, “It’s okay, if you do-”

“No, sorry, I just. Not like that,” he says, swallowing heavy, and it’s almost as if Seungwoo can see the way his chest _races,_ his heart beating too fast. His hands tremble, and Seungwoo can _feel_ the way his cock twitches where it’s pressed between them. Seungwoo swallows heavily, trying to get a hold of himself, because even though it’s _his_ birthday, he wants to do it the way Seungsik does, will always follow his lead. “I just, I want to do it like this-”

And Seungwoo barely has time to blink before Seungsik turns them over, getting on top of him, pushing his ass back against his hips and making him _feel_ him. 

Seungwoo chokes on a breath, overwhelmed.

“Just wanted to ride you, is all,” he says, words low, his eyes dark, and it’s like he’d flipped a switch. He’s still _beautiful,_ still too endearing for Seungwoo’s life, too much of what he deserves, but. He’s like _fire,_ above him, burning hot and low and licking his lips as he looks down at him, and he looks like an _angel_ but feels like _sin._

“Sik, baby, _fuck,”_ Seungwoo chokes out, head falling back to the pillows as Seungsik rolls down the condom on him, his hands _deliberate_ and purposeful and he strokes him, taking his time to trace the largest vein on his length. 

“You okay?” he asks him, and truthfully, Seungwoo’s not much away from totally losing his mind, but Seungsik takes his hands, guides them to hold his thighs, right where they meet his hips. Seungsik is slight, his frame not too filled out, but he’s _defined,_ the muscles tense and hard-earned beneath his soft skin, and Seungwoo swallows heavily as he looks up, meeting Seungsik’s gaze as he waits for him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says, closing his eyes briefly as Seungsik grinds back against his cock, sliding him between the cheeks of his ass. _“Fuck,_ where, where’d _this_ come from?”

“Hmm, I wonder too,” Seungsik says, smirking down at him, and _christ,_ Seungwoo knows they shouldn’t be too loud, but he wants to _drive_ up into him, make him scream, wake up the whole dorm. The kids would _hate_ them in the morning, but he wants to milk his birthday privilege for all its worth. 

Seungsik reaches back, and Seungwoo melts, moans as he takes his cock in his hand, the bit of slick left on his hand making the slide easier, and somehow, Seungwoo is _still_ fully unprepared for when Seungsik guides him to his ass, the head slowly stretching his hole.

“Sik, baby, _please,”_ Seungwoo says, and Seungsik smiles. Leans down to kiss him, and Seungwoo takes, kissing him back, comforted by the taste of him against his lips. 

He should have known it was to lull him into a false sense of ease, because Seungsik suddenly pulls away, a glint in his eyes, and he _slams_ down, taking the rest of his cock all at once, right to the base, until his ass is cushioned snuggly against his hips. 

_“Fuck!”_ he swears, _loudly,_ throwing his head back and craning his neck as he feels Seungsik adjust around him, his ass clenching around his cock as he seems to sink even further down. “Seungsik, _fuck.”_

“Too much, hyung?” he asks, and Seungwoo can’t believe he’s even asking. Nothing has ever been _this much,_ ever, but Seungwoo might die a little if he slows it down. 

“You’re so tight,” he groans, moaning as Seungsik begins rolling his hips, grinding down on his length, feeling _incredible_ around him. He’s tight, _hot,_ but it’s the sight of him that really does it for Seungwoo. Beautiful, _beautiful_ as he rocks his hips above him, his hands flat on Seungwoo’s stomach, thighs tensing as he circles his hips, and his expression, _smug,_ but open with his pleasure. He moans, mouth dropping to let his noises out, the pinkness of his cheeks growing with each pump of his hips. 

“You’re so hard, Seungwoo,” he says, and Seungwoo’s not sure if he’s dirty talking on purpose, or if he’s just being honest. He loses his mind a little more anyway, and essentially short circuits as Seungsik leans back slightly, one of his hands spreading flat against his own belly, and stays there as he rides, as if. As if he were feeling Seungwoo plunge into him from below, filling him up. 

_“Fuck,_ you’re not real,” he grunts, and Seungsik looks at him. 

Somehow, his eyes get even _darker,_ and he straightens up slightly, his hole clenching around him, making him choke on any further words he doesn’t have. “I’ve barely even started, hyung.”

And when he _starts,_ Seungwoo is gone. 

He _bounces_ on his cock, bringing his hips up, only to _slam_ down, pounding himself on Seungwoo and jostling the bed, the springs protesting beneath them as he hammers down. Seungwoo moans, and he can’t stop, the sound continuous and leaving him breathless as his cock plows into Seungsik, his tight heat _so much_ and he can’t get enough.

“Sik, baby, your _ass,”_ he can’t help but moan, feeling useless as he fucks himself on his cock, and Seungsik has _always_ been sexy to him, has always been _everything,_ but he can never get used to it. Can never get used to the fact that Seungsik can render him speechless like this, make him feel indescribable pleasure, make him feel like he’d been made for this, like they were made for each other. He had already believed it before, and this. This was just evidence of how their pieces were always made to fit, no matter what they had gone through. 

“Fuck, _hyung, hold tight,”_ Seungsik says, breathing heavily as he lets go, and _rides him_ within an inch of his life, bouncing and clencnhing around his cock and grinding, pumping his hips every so often and he’s tight, _so tight,_ feeling absolutely _heavenly_ around him.

“Sik, _god,”_ Seungwoo grits out, and he can’t. He sits up then, bringing his arms up and pulling Seungsik into his chest, their torso flush together as he _drives_ up, ramming into him from below and cramming him full of his cock. 

Seungsik _screams._ “Hyung, _hyung,”_ he cries out, throwing his head back and bringing his arms up around Seungwoo’s shoulders, holding on to him as he plows into him.

“Were, _ah,_ were you getting back at me? For teasing you so much?” he asks him, the words a little slurred as he mumbles them against his throat, fucking him. “Being too sexy to rile me up?”

Seungsik, for all his genuine innocence and gentle nature, just _hums._ “Hmmm, you tell me, hyung.”

Seungwoo _growls,_ Seungsik laughs, then it’s choked off as he _moans,_ clutching on to him tighter as Seungwoo rams up into him, his hands holding the tight flesh of his ass in his hands, gripping, moving and guiding him along as he fucks into him.

Seungwoo can’t take it; he holds Seungsik tightly, rolls them over to lay him flat against the bed, never pulling out. As soon as his back hits the mattress, he plunges right back in, pushing his cock into Seungsik’s ass, and he does it again, and again, drilling into him and making him _take it._

“Oh, oh _god,”_ Seungsik whines, legs parting for Seungwoo to sink into him further, and he’s so fucking _sexy,_ Seungwoo burns with it. His chest heaves, his cock swaying and smearing precome all over his stomach as Seungwoo fucks his ass, his skin pink as hell and so, so _beautiful._ “Hyung, _so big, fuck-”_

“You’re so tight, ass so sweet,” he murmurs right into his ear, driving into him _hard_ as they chase their highs together. 

Seungsik whimpers, the sound gentle and endearing and driving Seungwoo on as he pistons into him. Seungsik brings his arms up over his back from under his, gripping on to his shoulder blades as Seungwoo fucks into him, finding himself home. “Hyung, _harder.”_

And he can’t possibly refuse him. He _rams in,_ driving in his cock _hard,_ making Seungsik cry out against his mouth, his nails biting into the skin of his back, and Seungwoo feels like he’s falling apart, barely held on together by Seungsik’s moans and the tight grip of his ass around him. 

Seungsik doesn’t seem to be faring much better, moaning against his mouth, thighs trembling around him as he keeps himself spread open, taking in the force of his hips slamming into him, making him shake. 

Seungwoo pistons in, harder, fucking into him with a pace and force that moves Seungsik up the bed, more and more, the pillows and sheets falling off as they fuck, and Seungwoo slams his hand up against the wall, just barely enough to prevent Seungsik’s head from hitting it.

“Sik, _Sikie, fuck,”_ Seungwoo moans, and Seungsik smashes their lips together, licking into his mouth and holding on as he’s fucked. Seungwoo drives into him, plowing into him rougher, listening to his gasps and moans and small pleas of _“More, more hyung,”_ and he can barely think. All he wants to do for the rest of his life is give Seungsik _everything_ he deserves, the love and kindness and hard work and proper _dicking down,_ even, just to let him know that he thinks the _world_ of him. Everything for him, always.

“I, I’m gonna come, hyung, _fuck, please,”_ Seungsik whimpers, clinging on to him. “Make me come-”

“I got you,” Seungwoo says, overwhelmed, but wanting to do so well for him. He breathes deeply, gets up on his knees, lifting Seungsik’s hips up with him, and he breathes again, _one, two,_ before he _rams_ into him, drilling his cock into him, making him _scream._

It doesn’t take long, he’s barely able to get his hand around his mostly-ignored length, before Seungsik is coming, his voice choked out by the force of it, ribbons of white spurting out and smearing his belly, up to his chest.

Seungwoo stares, _stares,_ unable to comprehend anything, breathing hard, feeling _fucked out_ just by looking at Seungsik, who’s slumped down to the bed, Seungwoo’s cock slipping out of him as he melts into the mattress. He looks thoroughly _reamed out_ by Seungwoo’s cock, half-lidded eyes and parted lips as he breathes hard, skin shining with sweat and pink from exertion.

He’s _gorgeous._ Seungwoo had done that to him, and he’s never felt more smug.

“Fuck, _fuck,”_ he says, unable to look away. “Seungsik, _fuck.”_

“I, _shit,”_ he swears, trembling, but his eyes as dark as ever as he looks at him, looking determined, very much on a mission. “I want you in my mouth.”

Oh, _oh shit._ Seungwoo feels himself collapse on the inside, fully overwhelmed, but he asks despite wanting it _too much,_ “Baby, are you sure?”

Seungsik’s eyes seem to glint, and says, “I told you, I’m not _done.”_

Seungwoo will _die_ an early death because Seungsik is _too much,_ but he _loves him._

He kisses him, hard and steaming, and he shifts to move down to the end of the bed, assuming Seungsik will crawl over to blow him, but before he can really move away, Seungsik tells him, “No, come up here, sit on my face.”

His brain is completely melted off, right out of his ears, and his heart _hammers_ in his chest, and none of this feels real.

“Sik, _fuck,_ that - won’t that be too much for you?” he says, but he’s trembling, aching to do as he’s told.

Seungsik doesn’t even pause, and his smirk is like sugar, sweet, drawing him in. “Fuck my face, hyung.”

Seungwoo _loses it,_ swearing colorfully, feeling weak and revved up all at the same time. He climbs back up, getting up on his knees, and Seungsik shuffles down slightly to accommodate him, looking up at him with the most heated expression as he waits for him. 

Seungwoo doesn’t think he’ll _ever_ be ready, his body hovering over Seungsik’s chest, but his cock practically _jumps_ in his grip, and it’s Seungsik who reaches out, his hands gentle and hot around his length. Seungwoo feels like he’s lost his breath, watching Seungsik place the head against his bottom lip, darting his tongue out to taste him, his gaze never breaking with Seungwoo’s as he does so. 

He truly, _truly_ feels like he’s lost his mind. Doesn’t remember Seungsik being so _much._

_“Sik,_ oh, baby,” he chokes on it, shaking as Seungsik tongues the slit, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the head. 

Seungsik teases him, kitten licks and small pecks and running his tongue along the veins, and Seungwoo feels like he’s sufficiently made a point. He’s about to beg, plead with him to have mercy and suck his cock, but Seungsik is smarter than he is. Is more perceptive, sees it on his face before he even says it. 

He opens his mouth, takes him in, inching down, more and more, and what he can’t take in, strokes with his hand. 

Seungwoo cries out, slumping against the wall, can barely watch Seungsik suck him off, bobbing his head along his cock and his lips, wet and pink around his girth, and Seungwoo feels like he’s about to lose it.

Seungsik’s other hand guides him, splayed over his ass and encouraging him to fuck forward, push his cock into his mouth and just _take_ what he’s being offered. And it’s not that Seungwoo doesn’t want to take. He’s just _too overwhelmed,_ feels like the gentlest touch or the slightest slide of his tongue against the slit will make him come all over Seungsik’s face, he doesn’t know what to do, head truly _empty_ and just full of _Sik._

But Seungsik doesn’t seem to mind to guide him, helping him along, moving him, until eventually, Seungwoo gives in, moaning against the wall as he fucks his mouth, pushing his cock into the wet warmth, and Sik calmly takes him, again and again, and it won’t take very long at all.

It feels freeing, the moment Seungwoo _lets go._ He gasps, cries out as he rabbits forward, his cock slipping in and out of Seungsik’s mouth as he comes, comes _so much,_ he’s shocked and embarrassed and apologetic when he looks down again, seeing that some of it had dribbled out of the corners of Seungsik’s lips, the last few spurts painting his cheek, his chin.

He wants to hide under his covers, can’t believe he _did that_ to Seungsik’s face, but he chokes on his spit when Seungsik merely brings his hand up, gathering it with his fingers, bringing it all into his mouth, _swallowing._

_“Oh my god,_ Sik,” he says, staring, frozen as Seungsik looks up, blinking, and all he says is, “Can you help me?”

_Fuck._ Seungwoo slithers down, much too enthusiastically for how fucked out he is, and he licks his face, and it’s like a switch, the way Seungsik goes from sex devil to the most _adorable_ angel, giggling loudly and squirming as Seungwoo cleans him up with his tongue.

Seungwoo has _so many_ plans. He’s still the birthday boy, for another hour. He fully plans on milking it for all its worth.

.

Not that the night before hadn’t been worth it, it _definitely_ was, even though the kids will _definitely_ be merciless with their complaints and teasing. 

But, Christmas morning is cold, a little too bright outside the window, and the ache in his hips and thighs and spine remind Seungwoo that he’ll be _dancing_ the whole day.

He groans. _Seungsik, oh god,_ he feels guilt curling around his heart, knowing that if for him, it’s going to be rough, what more for _him,_ who had taken Seungwoo’s cock inside him, _twice._

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and turns slightly, and despite the guilt, a softness fills him instead, pure and affectionate as Seungsik sleeps on, snoring _just_ slightly, blankets wrapped around him fully, cocooned for warmth. His hair is feather light, like strands of white gold on the pillow where it’s fanned out, his lips still slightly swollen from so much use the night before.

He looks at peace, whining slightly, shuffling on the bed as he searches for Seungwoo’s warmth, the blankets falling slightly just enough to reveal his chest, mottled with lovemarks, and Seungwoo would blush, but all he feels is _proud._

He watches on as he sleeps, coming in even closer until they’re flush, and he brings his hands up to slide his finger down the length of his nose tenderly, before resting the tips of his fingers on the highest part of Seungsik’s cheek, becoming more and more visible as the comeback draws nearer and nearer. 

Seungwoo cannot believe that he is allowed to do this. To _be_ with him, like this, to touch him, to find home in him, sink into him, and be welcomed so lovingly, effortlessly.

To be welcomed into Seungsik’s heart, in a way he has entrusted to no one else before, even though Seungoo had taken and _taken_ from him, and loaded so much _weight_ onto his soul, yet. Seungsik had taken it all, and didn’t complain. 

He is _profoundly_ fortunate, to be where he is, to be with a person too beautiful to be his.

It’s not much longer after that, that Seungsik shuffles, groaning quietly, burying his face into the pillows for a moment, then coming back out, blinking slowly at the light. He meets Seungwoo’s gaze, and he blinks again, shrinking in a little into the blankets, and Seungwoo smiles, endeared. 

“You’re scary,” he says in a low, hoarse voice. Seungwoo thanks the heavens that they don’t have vocal practice today, realizes that Seungsik had known what he was doing when he let him fuck his mouth, knowing he doesn’t have very many opportunities for it. His ears turn red at the thought. “Don’t stare at me like that.”

Seungwoo smiles, coming closer, brushing his hair back gently. “You’re beautiful.”

Seungsik _blushes,_ buries himself under the covers, too shy, “Hyung, _stop.”_

Seungwoo laughs, and it all feels like a _gift._ A gift of the most wonderful kind, something immeasurable, something that’s just for him, even though he knows Seungsik deserves more than what he can give. “Merry Christmas, Sikie.”

And at that, Seungsik goes slightly still in his arms. A moment, then he’s saying in a quiet voice, “Merry Christmas, hyung.”

And Seungwoo had been noticing it since the night before. Long pauses wherein Seungsik would be deep in thought, wherein sometimes, he’d look worried, or questioning himself, and he realizes he should have brought it up earlier. 

He decides to ask carefully, “Sik, baby. What is it? You’ve been like this, for a while.”

He looks up at him, and Seungwoo can swear he _feels_ the way Seungsik’s heart races in his chest, right where it’s pressed up against Seungwoo’s. He stays quiet, still, before he eventually says after a deep breath, his tone shaky, but full of trust regardless, “I, I know I said I didn’t get you a real gift, yesterday. But…”

He trails off, looking unsure again, and Seungwoo tilts his head up to look at him touching his chin tenderly, “What is it?”

Seungsik blinks, swallowing, and he seems to hesitate. But, bravest boy, he says in a small voice, “Please, don’t judge it too much. I, I’m not as rich as our fans, so it’s nothing too big, but. I got you, I got you something.”

“Sik, I meant it when I said the soup was enough, and _last night,”_ at that Seungsik turns bright red, hiding his face in his hands. Seungwoo smiles, kissing the top of his head, and he tells him, “I won’t hate it, it’s from you. Don’t worry, what is it?” 

Seungsik seems to have lost his verve. He won’t emerge from hiding, his ears turning progressively redder and hotter, but Seungwoo is patient. He waits, stroking his cheek with his thumb, letting him know he’s there, waiting for him. 

Seungsik doesn’t remove his hands, and even hides in his pillows, turning over to his belly to hide from him, the blankets falling off around him.

Seungwoo tries to get him to speak, pulling him close, but then, he sees it. The covers slide off a little more from Seungsik’s back, and Seungwoo realizes then, why he had frozen, the night before, when he had lead against his back as he heated the soup, why he had avoided turning over onto his knees, or crawling over to suck him off.

There’s a single pine tree, simple line art, inked onto his right shoulder blade. Tiny, barely a few lines of work, but it’s permanent, and it feels unreal under Seungwoo’s trembling fingers as he traces it over.

He stares, stares on, and he’s overcome, then, such that he can’t speak for too long.

A personal forest, simple, but honest, genuine, just for him. 

His chest feels tight, and his eyes sting, and he feels _everything,_ all at once.

He closes his eyes before he can let the tears slip out (they do, anyway), and he pulls Seungsik in, kissing him, hoping everything he can’t say will be understood. 

And Seungsik, of course, he understands. Takes Seungwoo’s still trembling hand in his, kisses the smooth skin of the back of his hand, looking at him carefully, understanding, saying nothing because it’s not needed. 

Seungwoo exhales, letting himself breathe it in, take it in. He leans in, kissing over Seungsik’s knuckles, a silent _‘Thank you,’_ for being understood, for being listened to, for lifting up the covers when it was getting too dark, too hard to breathe. 

He had waited a long time for the silence to be this comfortable. He had thought, before, that it was his duty to provide the shade while they had tried to walk in the sun, but now, the tree stands tall and stable as he leans, rests and takes refuge, personified in someone who had given him the space he had so craved for, to inhale and exhale and be free.

Seungwoo loves him. He _loves him._

And Seungsik understands. He smiles, brighter than his full head of soft lustrous platinum waves, and Seungwoo knows he understands, and he sees it in his eyes that he feels the same way.

Seungwoo smiles in turn. 27 feels blessed, calm. He’s home.

.

**Author's Note:**

> title is derived from seungwoo's 27th birthday.
> 
> a celebration of 9,498 days on earth.
> 
> [this is me](https://twitter.com/xiusikwoo)


End file.
